


you wish I was yours

by Wildcard



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Abuse, Infidelity, M/M, Marking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 03:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildcard/pseuds/Wildcard
Summary: Spiders can catch more than one prey in their webs at a time but Imayoshi's not prey and Kiyoshi's not rolling over without a fight.





	you wish I was yours

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for infidelity, emotional abuse/manipulation, mental manipulation, unhealthy relationships and ImaHana being TERRIBLE PEOPLE.

It’s the way Kiyoshi jerks when he’s bitten that gets to Hanamiya. It’s a full body jerk, a shudder that makes him thrust against Hanamiya, grind against him all sloppy and dirty, and Hanamiya loves it.

“Painslut,” he accuses, half-laughing, half-tender (or as close to tender as he can ever get). His hand slips down, cups Kiyoshi and squeezes hard enough to draw a groan that’s more pain than pleasure. “There’s nothing I can do to you that you won’t enjoy.”

“There’s nothing you can do that you won’t enjoy,” Kiyoshi corrects, brown eyes wide and locked on Hanamiya even through the haze of pleasure that makes Kiyoshi’s irises so soft and dark.

Hanamiya bites Kiyoshi again and proves him right.

*

“No,” Imayoshi says and pushes Hanamiya’s head away from his throat. “Stop biting. Are you trying to fuck me or eat me alive?”

“Both,” Hanamiya deadpans, scraping his nails down Imayoshi’s side in retaliation. “I need a snack to keep my energy up.”

Imayoshi scoffs, turning his head to a side as if Hanamiya isn’t even worth looking at. Hanamiya slaps him for it, hard, and admires the red mark that rises up. He only has a second to look at it before Imayoshi’s hands are around his wrists, grinding the delicate bones together, and they’re flipped over. 

Hanamiya’s head half-dangles over the side of the bed and Imayoshi’s got Hanamiya trapped between his thighs, knees digging into Hanamiya’s side. Imayoshi’s glasses are slightly askew and he’s got his eyes open just enough to let the steel-grey glint of his eyes show.

“Not,” Imayoshi says, enunciating each word with deliberate over-exaggeration, “On my face.”

“Tch,” Hanamiya replies dismissively, even as he admires the red oval marks that he’s left scattered over Imayoshi’s body. “You’re over reacting. That was too light to leave a mark.”

“That’s what you said last time when you grabbed my wrist,” Imayoshi counters.

“Wear a sportsband like everyone else does,” Hanamiya advises.

Imayoshi glares down at him coolly, then sets his heels against the sheets and shifts. When he starts riding Hanamiya, it’s arrhythmic and deliberately jarring, forcing Hanamiya to brace himself just to not get knocked off the bed.

He knows this trick. Imayoshi finds the angle that suits him best, rides Hanamiya until he gets off and then climbs off to leave Hanamiya with a still hard dick that Imayoshi won’t help him with. 

Fucking bastard. Kiyoshi’s never this much trouble.

(But that’s why Imayoshi is Hanamiya’s favorite.)

*

“You’ve got a lot of marks on you,” Kiyoshi observes, hands mapping out the marks that Imayoshi has left on Hanamiya. He’s not gentle about it either, thumbs prodding at the soft edges of the bruises and making pain flare anew.

“Not everyone’s as _gentle_ as you,” Hanamiya drawls in return. His fingers tangle in Kiyoshi’s hair and pull hard, guiding Kiyoshi’s head down.

“Are you using protection?” Kiyoshi asks, craning his head to look at Hanamiya even with his chin pressed against Hanamiya’s dick. Hanamiya tries to yank Kiyoshi’s mouth down over his cock but Kiyoshi stubbornly resists.

“What?”

“I don’t want to catch anything from you or whomever else you’re fucking,” Kiyoshi says so reasonably that it’s infuriating. 

Hanamiya uses his grip on Kiyoshi’s hair to haul him upwards. His fingers dig into Kiyoshi’s chin, then let go.

“You think I _care_ what you want?” He laughs, stroking his fingertips almost tenderly over the freshly bruising skin.

He slaps Kiyoshi hard and Kiyoshi says nothing, only turns his face so that Hanamiya can hit the other cheek too.

“Masochist,” Hanamiya accuses but the bite is gone from it.

*

Imayoshi’s fingers pause on Hanamiya’s back, then ghost slowly down over a place that’s been itching lately.

“Someone scratched you hard enough to draw blood, Makoto-chan,” Imayoshi teases, voice nearly a sing-song. His smile’s so wide that Hanamiya’s instantly on guard. “Did one of your little toys not feel like playing?”

“Toys don’t get to make those decisions,” Hanamiya answers, staying comfortably sprawled on his stomach. “They get picked up, played with and tossed aside until next time.”

“But they can still protest.” 

The sharp sting of scabs breaking feels so good that Hanamiya’s toes curl, the air stinging against the wet raw lines that Imayoshi’s opened up. Imayoshi’s fingers caress the freshly re-opened wounds, then dig even further in, carving at the flesh with nothing but his own blunt fingernails.

The sound Hanamiya makes stops just shy of being a scream.

“Did he scream like that, Makoto-chan?” Imayoshi asks, leaning down over to nip just lightly at the curve of Hanamiya’s ears. 

Soft as a caress, he whispered, “Today, you’ll be _my_ toy.”

Before Hanamiya can reply, Imayoshi clips the spider bite gag into place. 

All of Hanamiya’s curses come out sounding like moans.

(Maybe he doesn't love Imayoshi best after all.)


End file.
